


Almost Lover

by hazellepotter



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Almost Lover, Battle, Battle of Winterfell, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Childhood Love, Childhood Trauma, F/M, Fear, Fear of love, Final Battle of the Great War, Game of Thrones - Freeform, GoT Season 8 AU, GoT Season 8 Episode 2, GoT Season 8 Episode 3, Loss, Love, Post battle of Winterfell, Sadness, Sansa POV, Season 8, Season 8 Episode 2, Season 8 episode 3, The Night King, Theon POV, Trauma, Winterfell, abuse mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2020-06-29 09:40:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19827484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazellepotter/pseuds/hazellepotter
Summary: Was he a good man? What made a good man? Was redemption real? Theon would never be sure, but he felt at peace in that moment. If Sansa could forgive him, maybe redemption did exist. All that mattered now was that he was home. He was where he was supposed to be, fighting for the person he loved most. For his family.





	Almost Lover

Theon thought about her every day since he had left her. The way her cheeks had flushed when he had finally held her, and the tears that welled up in her eyes when he said he would have done anything to get her there. The single tear that dripped down her cheek as he left her.

He started many letters he intended to send to her, but he could never finish them. They were usually only a sentence long, but how was he supposed to write a letter when he could not even find the words to speak? 

_He missed her._ He hoped she was safe. He felt guilty, for everything, but that was nothing new. Guilt was Theon's constant companion and probably would be until he died.

 _Sansa,_ he wrote one night when he was out at sea, _I miss you._

But that didn't seem to suffice, so he threw the parchment into the fire and watched it burn. He had many nights like this as he sailed to get Yara.

Once he got his sister back, his feelings became clear. He realized why it was so hard for him to write to her. He couldn't believe he had missed the reason why before, but it was something he pushed himself away from, even when it came to his own blood. _Love._

"You love her," Yara told him, "You need to go." 

_So he did_ , and he didn't look back. He made things right by his sister. She was much like him; she only needed one chance for full redemption. Sometimes, you only had one chance and had to make it count.

As he rode into Winterfell, the snow was falling heavily. As it hit his skin, he thought of Ramsay. How he made his blood stain the snow; how he turned something Theon once loved into a war zone. Shivers ran up his spine, and he could feel himself breaking out into a cold sweat. He closed his eyes as his horse stopped at the gates. He tried to breathe.

"Why are you here?" A voice drawled. 

He didn't look the man in the eyes; he didn't even recognize his voice. In the past, Theon would have made his presence known. It would have been a huge deal, and he would have watched as Sansa rolled her eyes in the background like she used to do as a young girl. He couldn't do that now, even if he wanted to. He was a different man, if even a man at all.

"I'm Theon Greyjoy, I'm here to see Lady Sansa."

He expected more questions to be asked, but the man bowed as he opened the gates of Winterfell for Theon.

As he got off his horse and brushed off his cloak, he looked around at what was his home. The traumas inflicted on him by the Bolton's were still fresh, but nothing would take away his childhood. He smiled to himself as he remembered chasing Arya up and down the stairs, he smiled as he remembered laughing with Robb, he smiled as he remembered Sansa practicing her skills to become a lady. _He smiled because of Sansa._ He just hoped she would have him. 

As he entered the hall, he saw her. She was standing next to The Queen; she displayed the kind of beauty he had always dreamed about wanting before, but she was nothing compared to Sansa. Her skin resembled porcelain, but her hair was like fire. She was fragile and unbreakable at the same time. He had no idea how she exuded so much elegance and power. She had grown up; she was far from the little girl he remembered. 

As soon as she caught his eye, he watched as tears welled up in her own. He looked away and back towards the Queen. His words with her were short about his sister, just like he wished they would be, but she asked him a question that made a lump build in his throat. 

_"But why aren't you with her?"_ The Queen asked. 

Theon took a deep breath and looked Sansa in the eye again, acting as though the Queen no longer existed, "I want to fight for Winterfell, Lady Sansa, if you'll have me."

He could feel the Queen's eyes on them as Sansa rushed forward. His arms were around her and his shivering finally went away. He gripped her tighter and let her hair enclose around him. This was what Winterfell was to him, _Sansa's arms around him._ For the first time in years, even though he had been there enduring Ramsay's torture, _he was finally home._

* * *

Hours had passed since they had reunited. She still had private business to discuss with Arya after the whole group discussed their plans. Battle was to commence tomorrow, and Theon had so much he wanted to say her, but he wasn't sure he was going to get the chance.

He sat alone as he sipped his wine from his cup. In the past, he would have taken this night to get so drunk that he wouldn't be able to remember the next day once it was over, but he didn't want that this time. He wanted to have a clear head, in case he was able to speak to her before all peace was lost. 

She came out into the snowy night from one of the lower level chambers. No one had seen her, and for that, he was grateful. If they had, they would have asked her for a word. Her eyes were only on him as she made her way to his table.

As she sat down, he watched as snow hit her bright red hair. If he had the confidence he used to have, he would have leaned forward and brushed it away. But he couldn't be like that with Sansa. She wasn't just any other girl, especially not the kind of girl he did that to in the past. 

"I was not sure you would come back," Sansa confessed to him. She watched as he took another sip of his wine. Her voice shook as she spoke; he wondered if she was nervous or if it was because of the cold. 

"Of course I came back," he told her honestly, "I owe you _everything._ I never stopped thinking about you as soon as I left you. I still regret it to this-"

But Sansa stopped him from finishing his statement. She leaned forward and gently put her gloved finger against his lips. Theon felt like he was on fire, but not the kind of fire Ramsay made him endure. _It was the kind that ignited his soul._

Her eyes softened as he gently grabbed her hand away from his lips. He didn't dare let her go yet.

"You needed to save your sister. You have always tried to do what is right Theon."

_"But-"_

"We all make mistakes as we learn," she told him, "But I have always known who you truly are. Robb, he-he would forgive you. He _does_ forgive you, if he can see you where he is now."

Theon blinked and finally let go of her hand. He swore she looked disappointed, so he grabbed it again softly. He would take an excuse he could to hold her. He watched as her cheeks turned pink. Lady Sansa was not the type to get embarrassed. This oddly gave him hope.

"Sansa," he started, "If I survive this battle-"

"You will," she said fiercely, _"You have to."_

* * *

Theon looked Bran in the eye as they were the only two left. The Night King was waiting for his next move. He thought of Sansa and how he didn't get to tell her how he felt, but he hoped she knew. 

_"You're a good man, Theon,"_ Bran told him. 

_Was he a good man? What made a good man? Was redemption real?_ Theon would never be sure, but he felt at peace in that moment. If Sansa could forgive him, maybe redemption did exist. All that mattered now was that he was home. He was where he was supposed to be, fighting for the person he loved most. _For his family._

He closed his eyes one last time and thought of her smile. The one that only showed up once in awhile after all they had endured. It was always in the moments he didn't expect. He thought of the way she ignited his soul hours before by just one simple touch. He let himself charge on that ignition. When he opened his eyes and ran toward the Night King, he said one last thing to the universe. _He hoped Sansa would hear him._

 _"I love you,"_ he whispered. 

And then it was over.

* * *

**Sansa's POV**

It was over, and he was gone. For the first time in years, Sansa had hope that he could survive. It was stupid, really. They had lost so many others, and many were better fighters than Theon. It was only a matter of time before he would fall, especially during a battle like this. 

But the realism of the situation did not take over, and the tears would not stop flowing from Sansa's eyes. As they prepared all the bodies to burn, she wept to herself. She could feel Jon's eyes on her as she draped her body over Theon's. She closed her eyes tightly as she kissed his forehead for the first and last time. If only she had told him earlier how she felt, would it have made a difference in his fate? The realist in Sansa said, _probably not_ , but the child in her said, _yes._ She wanted to be the innocent child she was again so badly.

More tears fell as she placed the direwolf pin on Theon's chest. He would always be a Stark, even if not by blood. But he was not her brother; he never could be. _He was something more._ She supposed he always had been ever since she was a young girl. There was a reason she teased him so relentlessly. When she truly loved someone, that's what she did. She dropped the acts she was trained to perform. 

But just like the little girl she was, her dreams were taken away from her. Theon would never know that she loved him, but something deep inside her told her he loved her, too. Maybe that thought was the only thing that would keep her going now. The thought of an almost lover; the dream that could never be fully attained. 

Sansa finally lifted herself away from him and looked down at his scarred face one last time. As she walked away from him, she regretted that she ran away from love like she always had before out of fear. If only she used her voice. 

_Winter was here, but Theon no longer was._


End file.
